“She’d find a way to fix this,” I said, my voice hardening. But how? If Ivy had been able to take care of the situation, she would have taken care of it when I got kidnapped. What chance did I have, if even DC’s most prominent problem solver hadn’t been able to come up with an answer that didn’t leave her own head on the chopping block?
“I can’t change the president’s mind,” I said, thinking out loud, trying to channel Ivy, trying—in vain—to be like her, to prove that there was something of her in me. “I could try to talk to the First Lady, but I doubt I could even get a hold of her. Everyone’s out looking for Ivy.”
“What does that leave?” Henry asked quietly.
I blew out a long breath of air. “Who besides the president can issue a pardon?”
Asher raised the index finger on his right hand. “The governor of the state in question.”
I glanced at Vivvie. “I don’t suppose anyone at Hardwicke has an uncle who’s the governor of Arizona?”
She shook her head.
“What about William Keyes?” Henry asked. “My mother refers to him as the kingmaker. His support can make or break a political career. If the governor is looking to curry favor—”
“Adam already asked him to help,” I cut in. “Keyes has a grudge against Ivy. He won’t lift a finger.”
My father collects things: information, people, blackmail material. Adam’s voice echoed in my mind. He wouldn’t have asked his father for help unless he’d believed the man could actually deliver.
“In my experience,” Asher said thoughtfully, “sometimes ‘there is no way I am doing that for you, Asher’ just means ‘make me a better offer.’”
I got the distinct feeling he was talking about Emilia, but set that aside. What does Keyes want? What could I possibly offer him? He’d wanted Pierce on the Supreme Court, but Pierce was dead. I racked my mind for everything I’d overheard William Keyes say in his conversation with Adam.
He wants Adam to retire from the military and run for the Senate. I rolled that over in my mind. He thinks Adam could be president someday.
Ivy had said that a kingmaker was someone with enough money and power to affect the outcome of elections, but who—for whatever reason—wasn’t a viable candidate himself. I didn’t know why William Keyes couldn’t—or wouldn’t—run for office, but I did know that he wanted more than being the person who called the shots behind the scene.
He wanted his son to do what he couldn’t.
William Keyes wanted a legacy.
A plan began to take hold in my mind. Maybe Adam had been going about this all wrong. Maybe he shouldn’t have been asking his father for help.
Maybe he should have tried blackmail.
CHAPTER 62
William Keyes lived in Virginia. His residence—and I doubted it was his only one—was nothing short of palatial. The guard out front hadn’t wanted to buzz me through the gate, but I could be very convincing.
Ultimately, William Keyes had a weak spot, and I could tap into it with just four words: It’s about your son.
The others waited outside. Fifteen minutes after I’d been let into the Keyes house and seated in some kind of formal library, the old man joined me.
“You,” he said after a moment, “surprise me.”
It wasn’t clear from his tone whether that was a compliment or a complaint.
“I haven’t surprised you yet,” I replied. “But I’m about to.”
Despite himself, the old man looked slightly intrigued. “Your sister wouldn’t approve,” he said, coming to stand closer to me. I got the feeling that he liked towering over me, that it didn’t matter that physically, I was small.
An enemy could always be made smaller.
“Ivy is being held captive by a rogue Secret Service agent,” I said, not beating around the bush. “President Nolan has received a ransom demand.”
“He won’t negotiate.” The corners of Keyes’s lips twitched. It wasn’t a smile, but it wasn’t a grimace, either.
“She’s got a bomb strapped to her chest.” I kept my voice calm but couldn’t tamp down the intensity in it. “If you can’t get the governor of Arizona to issue a pardon, she’s going to die.”
After exactly three seconds of silence, William Keyes took a seat across from me. “What makes you think I have any sway over the governor of Arizona?”
“If you don’t, you know someone who does.”
This time, he did smile. “You,” he said, lingering on the word, “are very much like your sister.”
I could hear, in those words, that he’d been fond of Ivy once. Keyes stiffened, like he’d heard the same thing and didn’t appreciate the reminder.
“Unfortunately,” he continued, leaning back in his chair, “your sister is no longer my concern. She put Nolan in office. Clearly, she prefers his judgment to mine.”
Whatever bad blood there was between Keyes and the president, the man sitting across from me would never forgive Ivy for helping Peter Nolan make it to the White House.
Luckily, I hadn’t come here to beg forgiveness.